


Draco Malfoy and the Unbreakable Vow

by Biblliomancer



Series: The Pureblood Cycle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biblliomancer/pseuds/Biblliomancer
Summary: An AU retelling of Deathly Hallows. Following an unfortunate mishap, Draco Malfoy finds himself held captive by the Order of the Phoenix. Torn between loyalty to his family and a crippling fear over the Dark Lord's impending rule of the world, Malfoy exchanges information for protection. It seemed an easy enough bargain... That is until the Burrow was attacked.





	1. Counter-Curses

                Somewhere in London, a handsome manor house grew out of a patch of forgettable darkness. To the casual passerby, the Manor would be nothing more than a blurry shadow in the corner of one’s eye. However, to the educated, one would see a long, narrow driveway behind a wrought iron gate.

                _Malfoy Manor._

                The property in question is surrounded by high, trimmed hedges. Feeble lights glinting in the diamond-paned downstairs windows; the rest black as pitch. Albino peacocks wander amidst hemlock, cuckoo pint, and foxglove planted throughout the quiet grounds surrounding the Manor. This ancestral home has clearly seen better days. Whether it was due to the current political climate, or the owner’s increasing paranoia, one thing remained apparent: the Malfoys were spending more and more time holed up in their home.

                If one were to enter the manor and ascend the once majestic, although now dilapidated, staircase and take a sharp left down the hall; they would find themselves facing a large, oaken door washed in a dark varnish. Behind this door is a large bed piled with silken sheets and plump pillows. Nestled amongst these luxurious accouterments is one Draco Malfoy, the subject of our tale. On this particular evening, Mr. Malfoy found himself in an unexpected, if welcome dreamscape…

 

                _‘I’m so sorry, Draco…’_

_Draco Malfoy tensed as a calloused hand drew itself down his chest. Draco’s body quivering in response to the delicate touch._

_‘I didn’t… I couldn’t **know** that that spell would have such repercussions…’_

_The hand slipped around to the small of Draco’s back and pulled him close._

_Out of the hazy, dreamy atmosphere emerged a face all too familiar to Draco._

Potter.

                _‘Vulnera Sanentur…’ Potter murmured breathily as he stroked his wand against Draco’s chest._

_An intense burst of light erupted from Potter’s wand. The wounds on Draco’s chest reknit themselves, leaving behind tender, pink flesh._

_Potter lowered his head to kiss the newly healed skin on Draco’s taut chest._

_Draco gasped, moving to push Potter off._

_Harry resisted and pushed Draco back down._

_‘Now, now. I’m not done healing you yet, Malfoy. There’s only so much a wand can do…’_

_Potter moved in a flurry of motions._

_Before Draco knew it, Harry was holding both Draco’s wrists above his head. Draco was shocked as he realized that Potter had accomplished this all with one hand. He tensed as Harry drew his tongue down the smooth flesh of Draco’s chest._

_A hot breath escaped Harry’s mouth and glided over the trail he just drew with his tongue. Gooseflesh quickly replaced the path as if by magic._

_Harry gave a warm, throaty laugh before swinging his mouth down into Draco’s lap._

_‘G-get…’ Draco found himself unable to say the words._

“Off!” Draco Malfoy screamed as he tumbled out of the extravagant, four-post bed in his parents’ home.

                Black, satin sheets, and a heavy duvet quickly followed after him, covering Draco in a mountain of fabric and batting. Draco awoke with a start, eyes fluttering. He exhaled audibly.

                _Another one of those blasted dreams…_

Draco didn’t need to look down into his lap to know that he awoke erect; this had been the seventh time in a week since Potter started plaguing his sleep.

                _Betrayed by my own mind and body..._

                Nothing seemed to be going Draco’s way anymore. His parents had insisted continuously that once the Dark Lord returned to power, their family would be ruling the British Isles. Voldemort’s treatment of the Malfoys over the last year had said otherwise. When Draco brought this point up to Father, Lucius countered that the Dark Lord wouldn’t truly be in power until Potter fell; he completely ignored Draco’s observation on their family’s fall from grace.

                Draco didn’t buy a word of it.

                Deep down, Draco knew that his family was screwed either way. The other Death Eaters all but walked all over the Malfoys and the Dark Lord encouraged it. Father had been reduced to a paranoid fanatic and Mother wasn’t much better off, constantly looking over her shoulder, worried about hexes and curses flying from the shadows. If Voldemort won the War, then the Malfoys would continue to be made an example of.

                If they survived that long.

                If the Order won, then the Malfoys would be socially scorned, which was just as good as death as far as Mother was concerned. Still, if the Order won, then the Malfoys could relocate. They still had friends in France and Russia. Surely one of those foreign families would aid the Malfoys. Surely. The fact that Draco was longing for an Order victory left him sickened… If Father knew he felt such a way…

                The grandfather clock in the corner suddenly chimed, frightening Draco.

                _Eight o’clock… the meeting will be starting soon. No use sitting around my room naked…_

Draco drew himself up from the floor and stretched. A stiff joint popped and Draco sighed with blessed relief. He made his way into his private bath and closed the door behind him, leaving all thoughts of the Order, Voldemort, and Harry’s skilled touch behind.

 

~

 

                Malfoy Manor may never have had the warmest of atmospheres, but it certainly used to be more welcoming. Not anymore. Ever since the Dark Lord and his minions took up residency at the Manor, all mirth and joy had vacated without warning. The Malfoys had made many happy memories in the various salons and sitting rooms, but Draco always loved the dining room most. Holidays, birthdays, parties. He now found it hard to hold on to those memories. It was like the ghost of a Dementor had descended upon the Manor, sucking up every last bit of love and kinship that the Malfoys had cultivated between themselves.

                Draco was seated at the dining table, surrounded by Death Eaters. There was once a time when his family would be sitting to the right of the Dark Lord, a place of reverence amongst the shadowy lot. Now they were crammed between two Death Eaters that Draco had never met before. Sweat trickled down his back as the nasty piece of trash to his right stared openly at the Malfoys. The old git was missing a few teeth and half his scalp. Rancid breath washed over Draco’s face as the mouthbreather started laughing at him.

                _Would it be worth the Dark Lord’s wrath if I just ended this bugger?_

_…No._

_No, it wouldn’t._

The disgusting stranger quickly turned from the Malfoys and began staring straight ahead. Draco felt his spine go straight as the Dark Lord passed behind them. Draco wanted to close his eyes. This all had to be a bad dream. In minutes he would awaken in his plush bedding, no Death Eaters, no Voldemort anywhere to be found.

                He couldn’t close his eyes. He didn’t dare. He knew that as soon as he did, one of the hecklers amongst them would point it out and then everyone would have yet _another_ laugh at the Malfoys’ expense; the Dark Lord given yet another reason to detest Draco and his parents.

                A sudden wail sounded, a terrible, drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Many of those at the table looked downward, startled, for the sound had seemed to issue from below their feet.

                Not Draco. He knew what was down there. That didn’t concern him so much as what was above them.

                Draco’s eyes wandered up. He was still in shock. Never in a million years had he expected to walk into his own dining room to find one of Hogwart’s Professors being held captive. Professor Burbage tried to squirm but to no avail. Bile rose in the back of Draco’s throat. That could easily be him or one of his parents.

                “Wormtail,” said Voldemort, with no change in his quiet, thoughtful tone, “have I not spoken to you about keeping our prisoners quiet?”

                “Yes, m-my Lord,” gasped the small man halfway down the table. He scrambled from his seat and scurried from the room in a flurry of huffs and whines.

                “As I was saying,” continued Voldemort, coming to the head of the table and looking at each of his followers, “I understand better now... I shall need to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter. There is no other way given the present circumstances.”

                To his left, Draco felt Father tense up. He knew what was coming. Voldemort had been targeting the Malfoys with every little bit of petty vengeance he could conjure.

                “Hmm? No volunteers?” asked the Dark Lord. “A pity... Let’s see… Lucius? I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore.”

                Father’s face shot up. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. Lucius Malfoy looked like the ghost of the man he used to be. A hoarse voice came from his throat in reply. Voldemort looked on with a clam, unreadable expression.

                “My Lord?”

                “You wand, Lucius. I require your wand,” the Dark Lord replied as if speaking to a child.

                “I…”

                Voldemort walked back over to Lucius’ chair, spindly fingers coming to rest on the back of it. Draco dragged his eyes from Professor Burbage’s floating body and glued them to the wall in front of him, in a perfect imitation of Mother. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw father shakily handing Voldemort his wand.

                The Dark Lord inquired for a few moments as to the wand’s makeup. He seemed pleased. Whether that was due to the wand or Father’s embarrassment, Draco couldn’t be sure.

                The rest of the meeting went on the same as they had for the past few months. Voldemort made a joke at the expense of Mother’s side of the family. Everyone laughed hard at that one… It wasn’t even that funny. Draco was more surprised by the revelation contained in the joke.

                Apparently, earlier in the week, Sirius Black had married Remus Lupin. Mother had often commented on what a womanizer Sirius was reputed to be. That had just been a cover apparently.

                Draco felt bitter over the news. _Someone_ could find a little happiness in this shitstorm they created and of course, it would be members of the Order. Of course. Things always seemed to work out for that lot no matter how much cunning force the Dark Lord tried to throw upon them.

                “Which brings me to my next item. Lucius, since you are now without a wand, it shall be impossible for you to accompany us this evening. Therefore, it brings me great pleasure to inform you that Draco shall be taking your place.”

                Draco snapped out of his thoughts at the mention of his name. He slowly turned his head up the table, eyes passing over countless sneers. The Dark Lord was staring straight at him, expression grim.

                It was Mother, who had been silent this entire meeting, that spoke up first, “Surely, my Lord, you would prefer someone more _experienced_. I humbly volunteer my services, if it pleases you, My Lord.”

                Voldemort made a _tut-tut_ sound under his breath as he regarded Narcissa.

                “I am flattered that you’re throwing yourself at the opportunity, Narcissa, but Draco is the best choice in this matter. Your passion shall not be ignored, however. When next I have a _suitable_ task for you, I can assure you, Narcissa, you shall be the first one to hear of it.” The corners of Voldemorts mouth quirked up a tad as if he was about to smile at the family. A ghastly sight.

                Voldemort spun Lucius’ wand in his left hand, looking down at the proud piece of wood. The entire gathering sat silent, staring up at the Dark Lord with expressions of reverence and obedience. He seemed to ignore them all, lost in his own thoughts.

                With a slap, Voldemort threw his pale hand down upon the table top and gazed out to the far end of the room, over to the door that Wormtail had just gone out of. That same quirk hit the corner of his mouth again before he went on in a polite tone.

                “Ah, I have been so rude! How very thoughtless of me. _Wormtail_ , attend!”

                The short man bustled out from the hallway and waved his wand at Professor Burbage, who was still floating above the table. A sudden cough announced that the sleeping jinx had been removed from the Professor. Draco slunk deeper into his chair as he heard the soft moaning escape her lips.

                “We are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until very recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You see, she taught the students all about Muggles… how they are not so different from us…” Voldemort shook his head, almost to himself, "Filling our children's heads with nonsense... Misguiding them and turning them from our noble mission."

                Voldemort made another  _tut-tut_ sound in mockery of the bound Professor.

                There were small noises of abhorrence around the table. A broad, hunched woman with pointed teeth gasped dramatically. One of the other Death Eaters spat on the floor. A few of the others swore under their breath. Charity Burbage revolved in place, her groans growing with every turn of the body.

                Draco stopped paying attention to the Dark Lord and just starred at Professor Burbage. The woman was now lucid, her eyes searching the room, in vain, for a familiar face. It didn’t take long before her eyes found what she was looking for. Draco followed her line of sight to see Severus Snape sitting at the opposite end of the table, looking intensely at Voldemort.

                The whispers at the table suddenly died down, causing Draco to look back over to Voldemort. As his pale eyes fell upon their leader, the Dark Lord brandished Lucius' wand and suddenly screamed out.

                “ _Avada Kedavara!_ ”

                A flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his and onto the floor.

                “Dinner, Nagini.”

 

~

 

                He heard about it, and he had thought about it, but seeing it was a whole ‘nother matter. Nothing could prepare one for the sight of a massive snake eating a human body. Sure, Professor Burbage had been dead when the deed was done, but that didn’t take away from the shock and gore that Draco witnessed on his dining table. He had vomited twice during the spectacle. Unfortunately, decorum enforced that Draco swallowed back down what sickness had formed in the back of his throat.

                What a horrible night it was turning out to be.

                The only saving grace of it all was the mission that he had been forced into. Oh, he did not want to be here either. The constant paranoia and worrying that accompanied this mission had helped Draco forget about Burbage for the moment; although he knew that he would be seeing her lifeless body in tonight’s nightmares.

                At this time, Draco was sitting on his broom, floating directly above Harry Potter’s house. Well, it was not his house exactly, but close enough. Voldemort had cloaked his followers in darkness while they waited for the Order to emerge from Privet Drive.

                It didn’t take long at all. Draco gaped openly when he saw seven members of the Order of the Phoenix paired off with, what appeared to be, seven Potters emerge from Privet Drive.

_Polyjuice? Couldn’t think of anything better then? Sloppy, Potter. Voldemort will find you no matter who else wears your face…_

                Draco chanced a look at the Dark Lord whose eyes had gone wide. Two Death Eaters quickly approached Voldemort as a quiet rush of whispers were exchanged between the three. After a few hostile snarls, Voldemort looked pleased with himself as the other two broke off to whisper with the other Death Eaters in attendance.

                No one came over to Draco.

                No one needed to, for they all moved into a large circle. Draco, Voldemort, and 28 Death Eaters sat expectantly. The Order it seemed was flying straight up from the house and blindly into the center of the newly formed circle.

_Bloody idiots! You’re coming right for us! You’ll all be dead, and you won’t even know what happened! Where are the brains with you lot!? He’s won without even trying…_

                As the Order leveled out with the circle, a loud crack could be heard off to Draco’s left.

                Despite the dread Draco felt over Voldemort’s impending rule, the look on Potter’s face was priceless; all seven of them.

                Screams sounded in the air, a blaze of green light emerged from every Death Eater in attendance, except Draco. The killing curse wouldn’t come no matter how much he shook his wand or cried out the incantation. One had to _mean it_ when casting one of the Unforgivable Curses. Draco was too doubtful over the need to slay Potter. He prayed the Dark Lord would not notice his failure... Many members of the Order gave a yell as some fell from their brooms and others shot off in different directions.

                Draco couldn’t help but take note of one Potter in particular. This one was clinging to the side of a floating motorbike and screaming, “Hedwig!” The caged owl had been dislodged and was now falling from the enchanted vehicle.

_Couldn’t be any less obvious could you, Potter?_

                Without a second thought, Draco took off after the now retreating bike. He could hear Potter crying loudly as a green light made contact with the airborne owl cage. Howls of anguish escaped Potter’s trembling lips.

_Stupid, Potter… You practically asked for this… Others dying for you… Stupid…_

                Four other Death Eaters had the same idea as Draco, as they were now passing the Malfoy heir. Countless flashes of green and red light flew back and forth between the two groups.

                Draco did his best to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Dodged blasts of light, Draco drifted off to the side but kept up the pursuit of Potter. One of the other Death Eaters seemed to notice the fact that Draco wasn’t even trying to cast a curse or a hex. The masked stranger shook his head with a laugh and sped forward, wand out.

                Potter quickly shot a _Stupefy_ at the assailants, and it hit the masked stranger square in the face. The Death Eater slipped from his broom and plummeted towards the Earth.

                The motorbike sputtered a bit before halting for a moment midair, Draco almost colliding with Hagrid and Harry. Another beam of red light shot from Potter’s wand and connected with Draco’s chest.

_Bloody hell…_

                What happened next was a blur. Looking back on it, Draco wasn’t sure how it happened exactly. The only thing Draco knew for sure was that one minute he was on his broom and the next he was sprawled out across Potter’s lap, falling unconscious.


	2. Trapped Like a Rat

                Light struck Draco like a hammer to the temple.

                “Ugh…”

                It wasn’t long before his blurred vision straightened. Draco tried to rub at his eyes but found that he could not move any of his limbs. He appeared to be propped against a dingy wall with nothing but a beat-up mattress beneath him. Everything was silent in the room save for the occasional sound of a spoon hitting the edge of a cup or the rustle of papers. The smell of dust and mold collected at Draco’s nostrils prompting him to sneeze violently.

                _Great._

                Three grown men sat at a table, not a few meters away. Draco groaned loudly as he recognized the trio, eyes rolling in his skull.

                Sirius Black looked up from a copy of the Daily Prophet, and a sly smile crept across his face, calling out to Draco in a mock sing-song tone.

                “Ah, Cousin! So lovely to see you’ve awoken. I was worried we’d have to dump cold water on you if you insisted on sleeping _another_ day away.”

                Remus Lupin smacked Sirius’ arm, who returned the slap with that same sly smirk he just offered Draco, although decidedly warmer. Lupin rolled his eyes and went back to sipping from a teacup, quietly watching Sirius. Kingsley Shacklebolt turned around in his chair to regard Draco with an impassive eye.

                Sirius Black dropped the Prophet and stood from the table, making his way across the room to Draco.

                “I misspoke. You see, I _did_ try to douse you with water, a few times actually, but you just kept snoring away. I’d have kept on with it were it not for Molly… You had better thank her by the way. She doesn’t do that for everybody, _cousin_.”

                “For what?” Draco asked in a daze.

                Sirius Black gave a hearty bark of a laugh before slapping Draco on the shoulder. He brought his face level with Malfoy’s.

                “Saving your life, of course, lad! You really think it was _my_ call to take you hostage? I was about ready to skin you and ship your carcass off to that pinch-nosed clot you call a father.”

                Draco gulped audibly, eyes widening a fraction.

                “W-why would she save me?”

                “Well, you see, I would figure that has something to do with us being the _heroes_. D’you really think they would’ve let me harm a hair on your head? Dumbledore wasn’t our only moral compass around, y’know... Besides, cousin, you’re far more valuable alive than dead.”

                Draco managed to shake his head. Sirius barked another laugh at the sight. Kingsley rose from his chair and came to stand next to Sirius.

                Kingsley cleared his throat before jumping in, “That is not to say that we will not see justice done, Mr. Malfoy. Azkaban may no longer be our choice prison, but I can assure you, that we do indeed have a safe place saved for you should we choose to continue your confinement.”

                Sirius gave Draco a dark smile as Kingsley continued on, “If you cooperate with us, Mr. Malfoy, I can assure you that we will return the kindness in turn. However, if you waste our time… Well, let us not think on that for now...”

                Sirius’ smile grew even darker once Kingsley finished. Draco wasn’t sure if this was all an act or if the Dog really wanted to see Draco strung up. He didn’t care to find out. Still, not much could be done. He was bound, without a wand, and trapped like a rat.

                Draco lowered his head and groaned to himself, “What do you want from me?”

                Sirius replied, “See, Remus? Toldya the boy would see sense. Come now, cousin, out with it. Where is the Dark Lord hiding nowadays?”

                Of course, they would start with that. What? Were they testing him? No one knew the answer to that question, although Draco suspected the Dark Lord was ever moving, never staying in one spot for too long. That’s what he would have done in his position and for this exact reason. It only took one weak-willed Death Eater to find themselves captured by the ‘heroes,’ and Voldemort would be sold out immediately.

                Draco laughed bitterly to himself, realizing fate had chosen him for that role. What’s worse was that he was actually considering telling them anything they wanted to know… Within reason of course.

                Oh, his parents had expressed their desires for Voldemort’s rise, but Draco knew even those wishes were only halfhearted. They couldn’t say anything to the contrary. Not with Voldemort himself popping in and out of their family home at a moment’s notice. If it wasn’t him, it was another one of the more fanatical Death Eaters strolling in like they themselves owned the Manor.

                The Malfoys were doing anything necessary to secure their own futures, just as they always had. There was no shame in that.

                He had heard that muggles called it a _preservation instinct_. Draco Malfoy didn’t know much about Muggles, but he knew he agreed with that little fact. So, again, why be ashamed?

                Still, his parents did have a knack for ignoring what they did not want to see.

                That is what scared Draco. What if they really were ignorant?

                Sure, he could tell the Order everything they wanted to know, but what would happen to his parents? What if one of them died while the Order stormed the Manor?

                “Protection,” Draco muttered.

                “What? Louder, boy!” Sirius barked.

                “Protection,” Draco said louder than he had anticipated, looking to Shacklebolt, “Protection for my parents and me. You lot don’t honestly think that I am stupid enough to play my hand without any reward? He’ll kill them if I tell you, and to be quite honest, I’m not sure _Fleabag_ over here wouldn’t off them himself once given a chance.”

                Sirius was about to start up again before Remus rose from the table and laid a hand on his husband’s arm. Remus gave Sirius a look before the taller man backed down. Remus kneeled next to the battered mattress, so he was looking Draco in the eyes, left hand coming up to rest on Draco’s shoulder over the spot where Sirius had slapped at him.

                Draco met his ex-professor’s warm gaze.

                “Draco, I know better than anyone how scared you must be. For yourself and for your loved ones. We all are frightened out of our wits. That is why it is so imperative that you cooperate with us. I am in no position to make any promises. What I can say is that, if you remain with us, we will see that you are safe in every way possible. We cannot say the same for your parents unless they come to the Order themselves.”

                Draco’s heart sank. The invisible bonds were stifling as he tried to shift under Remus’ hand. He did not want the man’s sympathy, nor did he want to be touched. It was just a show. All of this was just an act to get what they wanted out of him.

                The Wolf continued, “I don’t see why we can’t owl your parents-“

                “No!” Draco yelled, eyes watering slightly. “He’ll know! As soon as that owl comes to the Manor, he will take it and he will know! You musn’t-“

                “Ah…” Kingsley murmured.

                _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

                Draco just realized how telling that statement was.

                “So he’s at your home, is he? Just as our other informant said… Satisfied Sirius?”

                Remus patted Draco’s slumped shoulders and stood back up.

                “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I think that’s all we need to know right now.”

                Draco felt his bonds slacken as he looked up at Remus Lupin, who was now holding his wand over the mattress. He dragged it through the air and made a flicking motion at Draco. A flat pillow and threadbare quilt appeared next to Draco, and his bonds disappeared entirely. Draco rushed forward, aiming for the door.

                “Ow!” Draco yelled as his face collided with an invisible wall.

                “We’re not through with you yet, Mr. Malfoy. I merely thought you’d wish to be slightly more comfortable.”

                Draco looked back to Remus Lupin, who wore a sympathetic expression.

                “You’re never letting me go, are you?”

                “I do believe I said that if you cooperated, we would cooperate. I will leave it at that. Unfortunately, it seems the three of us are needed for more pressing matters.”

                Sirius gave Draco one last nasty look before marching towards the door. Kingsley and Remus followed, but not before Remus offered Draco a final glance over his shoulder.

                “Hang in there, Draco. I’m confident you will do the right thing. No one is beyond redemption.”

                With that, the door closed and Draco was left alone with his thoughts and his tears.


	3. Black Pudding

                _29 th July 1997 _was the date listed on the Daily Prophet that was placed before Draco. Two days he had been held captive.

                Hermione Granger had woken him up minutes earlier, with an insufferably cheerful greeting and a dented tray loaded with breakfast foods. She had clearly been sent by the others in an effort to butter him up, although why they chose a mudblood, he would never know. The Granger girl was laying it on suspiciously thick, prodding at Draco to eat. It made him uneasy. She wouldn’t shut up either, just babbling on and giving him the worst migraine in recent memory.

                “I didn’t know what you liked, so I just grabbed a little bit of everything. Molly is a terrific cook, my mother could surely use a few lessons from her. I’m sure you’ll love something on this platter. Does your mother do the cooking around your house?”

                Malfoy didn’t look at her. He just grunted and stared at the front of the newspaper laying on the ground. A warm cup of chai sat steaming in his hands, he wasn’t sure when he picked it up. Malfoy took a sip of the hot liquid absently. The tea was more bitter than chai usually was. Draco figured they must have left the bag in too long, that or it must be old. The Weasleys were poor. Why should they have fresh tea?

 

**_Auror Office Holds Ceremony for Fallen Comrade_ **

_It is with a heavy heart that this reporter informs her faithful readers with the news of Alastor Moody’s passing. The well known Auror died in the line of fire, attempting to stop the theft of a priceless magical artifact. It is believed that Alastor…_

                “I thought we took control of the Prophet?”

                Hermione’s eyebrow shot up at the word ‘we,’ but what did she honestly expect?

                “You’re half right, Malfoy. There are still some good apples left at the Prophet… Not many, I’m afraid, after today’s issue. We had to cover up his death, however…” Pain ringed the edge of her voice, “For Harry’s good… and ours.”

                Draco looked up to see his classmate glancing at the back corner. She quickly shifted her gaze away when she noticed Malfoy staring at her.

                “Are you not hungry?”

                He grunted in response.

                “Look, Draco, I know we don’t have the most excellent history, but this is so much bigger than us. Can you sincerely say that you believe Voldemort,” Draco tensed at the name, “is what this world needs? I know you don’t care for muggles and their history, but if you only knew what some people were capable of if given enough power and dementation.”

                “ _No_ , Granger,” Draco put extra emphasis on the first word, “I do not believe that to be the case.”

                She honestly looked taken aback by that response.

                “What choice do I have? My parents dragged me into all of this bullshit before I was even born! Ever since I was a young lad, I would hear my parents going on and on about the Dark Lord and the promises he made my family. They believed him!” Draco was shouting now, “They bloody believed him! Do you know what a load of crock that is!? They had their chance. They could’ve defected after Potter took him down the first time! But they didn’t! Do you know how frustrating that is!? To know that your parents have spent the last twenty-something years misguided?! Knowing that, lest you wished to be disowned, you _had_ to follow in their footsteps?!”

                Draco noticed he was sweating bullets. With a flop, he fell back onto the bare mattress. Draco hadn’t meant to let that much out. Not by a long shot. The stress had been getting to him. He had been leading a blessed life until Voldemort had made his triumphant return. After that, Draco had taken the Dark Mark and everything started to slowly spiral out of control.

                It was all Voldemort’s fault. Had the man never existed, the Malfoys would still be living high and mighty, Draco would still be the king of the Slytherin house, Potter and his gang of followers would never have risen to prominence, things would be right if only…

                So many ‘ifs.’

                It was all Voldemort’s fault.

                Granger was silent for a long time before he found her sitting at the edge of his bed. She reached out to lay a hand on his leg, but he jerked back from her touch.

                _Fucking Gryffindors…_

“I can only imagine what that must be like, Draco, but no one can change the past. We, in the Order, do not judge one by the sins of their father.”

                Draco winced at that.

                “Come, eat something. You must be famished.” Granger grabbed the tray and pushed it closer to Draco, “I’m sorry we didn’t have anything for you yesterday. I had put together a lunch for you, but you passed out again after you were questioned, and I’m afraid you never woke for dinner... It’s been _days_ Draco, you need to eat.”

                Draco found his hand moving on its own accord. It wasn’t magic, just hunger. It was not long before he had discovered that he had consumed an entire dish of black pudding and a pile of eggs. He took a bite of toast before tossing it back on the plate. Granger looked pleased as Draco sat back once more.

                “Oh come off it, Granger.”

                Her face grew smugger at that retort. Draco was annoyed.

                “Well? What do you want? What do you _really_ want, Granger? I doubt it was just to see me fed. We both know you’re no angel. I’ve heard the stories of what you did to Marietta Edgecombe. ”

                She ran a hand through her messy hair and tried to hide a triumphant smirk with the gesture. Did no Gryffindor know how to properly care for their mane? He just now realized how tangled Hermione’s hair was. Potter always had a bit sticking up, and Weasley’s was just plain disgusting. Draco shuddered to think how horrid his own head of hair must be looking if his own battered, soiled clothing was to be any indication.

                Granger rose from his bed and walked back over to the chair she had been sitting in. It was a long moment before she spoke again to him. The mudblood made no secret of studying him, watching his every move. It couldn’t have been a very interesting show for her, seeing as he hadn’t moved a muscle and had no intention of doing so.

                After several excruciating moments, Granger finally broke the silence.

                “You must have guessed that the Order is overly protective of Harry, Ron and I.”

                A guffaw escaped Draco’s dry lips.

                “ _Really_ protective. So much, in fact, that they don’t tell us half as much as they should. There may or may not have been a set of ears listening at the door yesterday when you were being questioned…”

                Granger did her best not to look guilty, but he knew.

                “Out with it, Granger.”

                “We got Sirius to agree to shelter your parents at Grimmauld Place, his home, if we can find a way to get them out… And if we can secure their cooperation, of course.”

                Draco was… well, he was stunned. For years and years he had mistreated the people that now held him captive, and yet here they were offering him help. Weren’t they? Or was this just another ploy to use Draco as so many had tried to before? He didn’t deserve it. His family didn’t deserve any of this. They should be left to reap the rewards of their unsavory dealings, not finding redemption with the _Order_.

                What was more stunning was the fact that Draco was seriously contemplating the offer.

                Ever the preservationist.

                Perhaps if his parents were spirited away, they really could escape all of this. So long as the Order didn’t place them under house arrest and confiscate their wands, the Malfoys could sneak out in the dark of night… But wasn’t that what the Order had already done to Draco? Who was to say they wouldn’t just cart the whole Malfoy clan off to a cage somewhere and forget about them? At least they would be away from Voldemort’s touch… But for how long?

                “I’m not totally convinced you lot are doing this out of the goodness of your hearts. What is the catch, Granger?” Draco spat back despite his misgivings.

                A sudden flash of color appeared in the back corner. Draco jumped in his seat as Harry Potter and Ron Weasely suddenly stood in the spot Granger had just been looking at a few moments prior. It was almost as if they had appeared out of thin air. An old, musty looking cloak lay at their feet.

                _Of course._

                “Eavesdropping, Potter?”

                The bespectacled wizard smiled at Malfoy, walking up to Hermione. Weasley followed closely behind, giving Draco the worst glare possible.

                “Malfoy, do you _really_ want to know what we’re asking in return? Our help will not come cheap.” Harry purred as he smiled at Draco.

                _Smug bastard._

                Draco stared at Potter before Weasley jumped in, “Not worth it, Mate. Ain’t too late to leave him on Mummy and Daddy’s doorstep... Or at the bottom of a lake.”

                “Ron, do be quiet,” Hermione quickly whispered.

                “No, I mean it. Why are we wasting time on this piece of garbage?”

                Draco spared a glare for Weasley, “I think _my_ family can _afford_ to pay it, whatever the price is. Looking to line your coffers, Potter?”

                Harry laughed before crossing his arms and shaking his head.

                “Now, Draco, you know I don’t want your filthy money.”

                “Then what?”

                In a quick blur, Draco found Harry inches from his face. The Malfoy heir gulped, perspiration forming on his brow.

                _Oh, Salazar, he does smell heavenly…_

_No, no._

_Stop it._

Harry seemed to notice how nervous Draco got. His face pulled in closer, until their noses were damn near touching.

                “Do you really want to be a Death Eater?”

                “No.”

                “Do you really wish to see Voldemort rule the world?”

                “What am I? A nutter?”

                “That’s not an answer.”

                “Of course not, _Potter_.”

                “If we let you loose… will you make the Unbreakable Vow, pledging your loyalty to the Order?”

                “W-What!?” Draco stammered out.

                “Answer me, Malfoy.”

                “Y-y-yes!” Draco threw both his hands across his mouth as the words were spoken.

                Harry drew back and nodded, pleased with himself. Hermione nodded, and Weasley groaned.

                “ _Auferrat!”_ Hermione called out as she flourished her wand over Draco.

                Weasley quickly spoke up, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

                “Ron, I doubt Draco Malfoy can resist the effects of _Veritaserum_. Had he known it was in his breakfast, maybe… but no. Besides, we went over this at least five times this morning. You agreed to the plan. Draco will defect, you heard it from his own mouth.”

                Draco shot up, fists clenched, “You _what_!? What d’you mean _Veritaserum_!? I never said-”

                Weasley sputtered out, “What about Occlumency? You don’t think he-“

                “No, I do not think so, Ron,” Hermione answered.

                _If you hadn’t caught me so off guard…_

                Harry was laughing heartily.

                Draco drew his fist back to strike that look off Potter’s face, completely forgetting about the binding spell laid around the edges of his mattress. With a grunt, Draco launched himself at Potter.

                Potter caught the fist, midswing, as Draco fell forward, colliding with him. He was surprised to find the two of them entangled on the floor well away from his little, filthy mattress.

                “What’s this? I’m no longer your prisoner?”

                Draco could feel Harry’s torso rising and falling as he tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle his laughter. Draco’s face grew red hot at the embarrassment. With reluctance, he unwound his limbs from Potters and stood, ungracefully, from the floor.

                “Of course you’re still our prisoner, Malfoy. Still, haven’t taken the vow have you?” Potter said with a snarky air about him, “Y’know Ron’s right, Hermione,” Harry said from Draco’s feet, “We never did tell him what the _payment_ would be.”

                Granger spun on her heel, looking Draco square in the eye.

                “Yes, I do believe you’re right, Harry. Tell me, Draco, have you ever heard of the _Ablue Tenebris_ enchantment?”

                Draco just stared at her.

                Ron had his wand out, pointed at Draco. He wanted to laugh in Weasley’s face, but there _were_ three of them, and he was sure the Order wasn’t stupid enough to allow Apparating on whatever piece of property they were now residing on…

                He could risk it, but what if he was successful? He could only go back to the Manor. True, his parents must be wrought with concern and worry, but as soon as Voldemort found out about Draco’s capture he would surely use it as an excuse to further humiliate or punish the Malfoys.

                If Draco stayed here, however, that only guaranteed things would be worse for his parents… Unless they thought him dead; at least until the Order could rescue Mother and Father. If nothing else, he had to see his parents rescued and secured, far away from the Dark Lord.

                With an exasperated sigh, Draco shook his head at Granger.

                “I didn’t think so… Take a seat, Malfoy. You might not like this…”


	4. The Unbreakable Vow

                Several hours later, Draco found himself staring down at his right arm… Rather, he was staring at Potter’s hand which was clasping his forearm as he did the same. Draco had never seen the Unbreakable Vow performed, but according to Granger, this was it. A strangely intimate gesture, but Draco wasn’t sure he had expected anything different… They were all but binding themselves together under an oath, why wouldn’t the spell feel personal?

                None of that did anything for Draco’s nerves. He found sweat forming on his brow, down his back, all over really. Gooseflesh covered every part of his body and a light tremble had taken Draco as Potter grasped at his exposed skin.

                “Scared, Malfoy?” Potter murmured with a grin.

                “You wish,” Malfoy echoed back with a sense of déjà vu.

                Potter’s grip tightened slightly on Malfoy’s arm and the sweat started pouring forth in a torrent. Draco told himself that it was just nerves, he was essentially betraying the Dark Lord and his parents… But this _was_ for his parents. Only a stupid git would think that the Malfoys had a pleasant future ahead of them under Voldemort’s rule… There was no other way. He _had_ to do this…

                Deep down he knew that it wasn’t familial concerns that made his body quake.

                It was Potter.

                If it wasn’t Voldemort, it was Potter.

                Always.

                Draco chased those thoughts from his head and turned a bit to look at Granger, who was busy skimming an old, battered tome.

                “Ready then, Granger?”

                “Yes, Draco, I think I’ve got it all down,” Granger said absently. She tore her eyes away from the text and held her wand up to her chest, nodding and exhaling, “Right.”

                Weasley grumbled from his chair at the rickety table, “Still think this is a terrible idea…”

                “Ron…” Granger murmured.

                Potter tore his eyes away from Draco’s to look back at the ginger, “Really, Ron, I thought you’d be pleased. If Malfoy betrays us or the Order, he’s dead.”

                Draco gulped hard, his own hand tightening severely on Potter’s forearm.

                “Don’t trust me, Weasley?”

                “Not on your life, Malfoy.”

                “Don’t pay him any mind,” Potter uttered as he looked back at Draco, “This is it, Malfoy. War is here. Make the right choice. You want to show us and the world that your family isn’t a bunch of cowardly berks? Then do it. No more talk. This is it, Malfoy.”

                Draco stared back at Potter with wide eyes, his mouth working soundlessly. He had no words. Potter was right, of course. It stung Draco, but in some sick twisted way, it also made his stomach do a little jig. Potter and the rest of the lousy Order were giving him a chance. He didn’t deserve it.

                Still, despite the life-or-death oath he was now taking, this was still more favorable than the treatment Voldemort had put upon the Malfoys. Draco didn’t fear being murdered at the Order’s hands, they were far too soft for that sort of thing… The Death Eaters on the other hand…

                Father was going to have a conniption when he found out about all of this…

                _If_ he found out about all of this…

                Potter cocked an eyebrow at Draco.

                Granger spoke clearly and loudly to the two of them, snapping Draco from his thoughts.

                “Right, so, you both need to kneel, first of all… There we go. Good,” She approached the pair, close enough for Draco to smell the lavender soap she was using, her outstretched arm bringing the tip of her wand to rest upon Draco and Potter’s wrists, “I shall do the bonding. Harry will ask the questions pertaining to the Vow, Draco, and you must agree… I think we’ve got all the right wording picked out. There’s no room for error here otherwise you both may suffer grave consequences as a result. The text did not mention what will happen if you decline, so this is your last chance to back out of it all.”

                Draco nodded and then gulped again, Potter simply stared into Draco’s eyes.

                “Right…” Granger said again, “Here we go.”

                An ember of white-hot fire erupted from Granger’s wand as she murmured an incantation under her breath. Potter glanced over to it before looking back to Draco, his gaze strong. He began asking the Vows in a soft and gentle tone, completely at odds with the expression on his face.

                “Will you, Draco, foreswear any and all loyalties you have to Voldemort and the Death Eaters?”

                “I will.”

                The fire at Granger’s wand stretched out into a thin, pulsing line of light. It shot out and wound its self around Draco and Potter’s linked arms, tightening upon their skin, preventing either of them from moving more than a centimeter. Despite its appearance, the enchanted flame did not exude any heat nor did it scorch their flesh.

                “And will you, to the best of your ability, protect any member of the Order should they find themselves battling Voldemort or the Death Eaters?”

                “I will.”

                Draco flinched as the weave of flame grew ever more taut upon their arms. New lines of the fire stretched out from the original strand, branching out like the roots of a tree, crawling out up towards their elbows; brilliant and luminescent energy binding the two young men together under Granger’s careful eye. Draco could feel the force of the Vows settling upon his skin, knitting themselves into his bones, into his very soul. He found himself wondering if Potter was feeling the same pulse of magic beating through his body.

                “And will you refuse to betray the Order, whether through word or deed?”

                “I will.”

                Draco exhaled. The vows they had agreed upon had been spoken. Granger made a motion to lift her wand, but Potter continued on.

                “And will you only speak the truth to the members of the Order?”

                Eyes goggling, Draco nearly tried breaking away from the bond, but Granger’s word’s echoed in his mind. This was not what they had agreed upon, indeed, even Granger had the decency to look shocked. Weasley was behind her, grinning like a cat that had caught a particularly fat rat. Potter held eye contact with Draco, his brows furrowing slightly and his head dipping in a nod.

                Draco exhaled and said, “I will.”

                The mystical flames entwining their arms burned brighter than the sun for a moment more before collapsing into a barrage of glittering specks. Draco wrenched his hand away and began yelling.

                “What the bloody hell was that about, Potter!?”

                “Sorry, Malfoy, I can’t take any chances. Not after Snape betrayed Dumbledore. You understand right?”

                Draco sputtered as Granger hopped in.

                “Really, Harry, you should have asked before we started the spell. Isn’t it enough that we are imposing this upon Draco? I understand your fears but be reasonable. You knew he couldn’t back out of that one, not once we started…”

                “I think that was a grand move on your part, mate,” Weasley chuckled as he swung back in his chair, “A right grand move.”

                Draco’s fist’s clenched and flexed. He wanted nothing more than to beat Potter into a bloody pulp, or at the very least, repay him for that curse in the bathroom of Hogwarts… But he couldn’t. Not now. He wouldn’t dare risk assaulting the _chosen one_ , not with the Unbreakable Vow in place…

                _Stupid git!_

“Right, I get that, Hermione, but you know what we’re up against. We can’t take any chances.”

                “I know, Harry, but still… We have to set the example. If we start playing dirty than we are no better than the Death Eaters.”

                Weasley chimed in, “Might have already crossed that line with the whole death-vow thing, but I’m not complaining. Isn’t any less than _Malfoy_ deserves if we’re being all chummy with him.”

                “You could have asked, _Potter_ …” Draco spat.

                “I did,” Potter said simply before releasing Draco’s arm.

                Falling back against the dirty mattress, Draco glared up at Potter, picturing all the things he’d like to do to him.

                Knock that smug look off his face.

                Bash his head in.

                Kiss him…

                _No no no!_

Draco shook his head before standing unsteadily from his place on the ground. Blood rushed to his head and the world seemed to topple in on itself for a moment, his vision unsteady.

                “You okay, Draco?” Granger asked with a touch of concern to her voice.

                “Yeah, yeah… Fine… Can I get some new clothes now that you’ve trapped me in that oath? This shit is getting musty and itchy and…”

                “You’re forgetting the other enchantment you agreed to, Malfoy,” Potter quickly shot back, dusting his hands off and walking back to the table, taking a seat next to Weasley.

                Draco groaned.

                “Isn’t that Vow enough?”

                Granger chewed her lip for a moment before responding.

                “No, Draco, I don’t think it is. You still bear the Dark Mark… Voldemort can still reach out through it. We don’t know the extent of his influence through the mark, but we can’t take any chances… Especially with the vow in place. There is no other way.”

                Draco let out a sarcastic laugh.

                “Right… Let’s be on with it then…”

                The door to the room flung open and a barking laughter filled the room.

                Draco whipped his head over to see Sirius Black enter the room, followed by Remus Lupin and a few other members of the Order of the Phoenix.

                “My my, children, you’ve been awfully naughty. Busy making Malfoy our puppet then, are we?”


	5. A Mother's Concern

                “Just what exactly is this?!” Molly Weasley called out as she shoved her way past Sirius and Remus, bursting into the room and glaring at Potter, Weasley, and Granger, “Did you three just sentence this child to death!?”

                Weasley groaned at his mother, “Aw, Mum, it was Harry’s idea! I’ve just been watching!”

                “Oh, and I suppose you didn’t encourage this? You are playing with very serious magic young man! All of you! How dare you fiddle with a life in such a haphazard manner!”

                “Come now, Molly, the children were only trying to do what’s right,” Sirius broke in, laying an arm on Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder, “This is war, after all.”

                She glared back up at Sirius, “I didn’t ask for your input. This is my child- my _children_!”

                Draco couldn’t help but notice a warm smile plastering its self across Potter’s face at those words. Molly ranted on, shaking a finger at damn near everyone in the room.

                “This is outrageous. Why, if Dumbledore were here-!”

                “Dumbledore is dead, Molly,” Sirius interrupted her again and stepped further into the room, “I, for one, applaud their ingenuity. I couldn’t have come up with a better plan. Good show, Harry.”

                Remus was close behind him, a dark look on his face. He reached out a grabbed Sirius’ shoulder and spoke in a harsh tone.

                “This isn’t a game, love. We agreed to protect Draco so long as he cooperated.”

                “Well, he doesn’t have a choice, now does he?” Ron retorted with a smug grin. Molly fixed a hard eye upon her son and that smile quickly evaporated.

                Draco felt light headed. This was all too much. The Order hadn’t known about this? Just a few hours ago he was so certain that this was all apart of their master plan… But then, why would they let the _golden trio_ handle it all? He felt like sicking up. He had been too eager to save his parents, to save his own skin. He didn’t even think to question the trio thoroughly on this all. Foolish. Far too foolish for a Malfoy.

                “I agreed to it, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco muttered as he fell back down to the flat mattress. Bile rose in his throat. She rushed over to the bed and knelt down beside it, bringing a hand up to smooth his hair out of his face. Draco instinctively shrank back from her touch, barely lifting an eye to her. It didn’t deter the woman. She murmured comforting words, stroking at the pale blonde strands across his scalp. Draco tried shoving her off again but to no avail.

                “There there, Draco. This will all turn out right. The Order keeps its word. We will protect you and we will see to it that your parents are taken in. Sirius will ensure of that himself,” She spat out the last words and turned to glare at the man. He wore a nervous expression and shrank back a few steps, stumbling into his husband who steadied him.

                “Now, Molly-“

                “ _Sirius will ensure of that himself_ ,” Molly repeated with all the resolve only a mother could muster.

                “R-right,” He uttered in response.

                Mrs. Weasley brought her hand around to Draco’s chin and lifted his face so that she could gaze at him, a soft and warm expression on her face. Only Mother had ever looked at him like that. It made him violently homesick. Thoughts of Death Eaters and Dementors swam into his mind, visions of Mother and Father dead at Voldemort’s feet, while the dark wizard cackled loudly. Tears flooded his vision and Ron could be heard snickering somewhere in the background of it all.

                “Of course…” Draco whispered.

                “Remus,” Molly called over, “Do go down to one of the boy’s room and secure a fresh jumper and slacks for Draco. Oh, and fetch lunch for the poor boy… Should be ready now. Do you much like ham and pickle sandwiches? It’s not much, I’m afraid, but there are some crisps and a nice glass of pumpkin juice to wash it down. Dinner will be much more filling, I promise. A nice roast. Doesn’t that sound lovely, child?”

                Lupin was out the door as soon as Molly Weasley was done issuing commands.

                The attention was all too much for Draco to bear. He was embarrassed. Reduced to a sniveling child in the arms of Molly Weasley. Half the Order was now in the room, all witnessing his shame. She cooed at him and tried to take him into her arms for a comforting embrace, but he wouldn’t have it. Draco shoved against her, shaking his head violently. The room seemed to close in on him, the walls trapping and constricting him under the watchful gaze of Potter and his cronies. Bile rose again in his throat and he began to wretch.

                Molly pulled back, making a _tsk_ sound under her breath.

                “My, you are worse for wear, child. We’ll fix that right up as soon as Remus comes back. I promise everything will be right as rain, just ease on down now. There, that’s better.”

                “Mrs. Weasley, this really was all my idea,” Harry suddenly said.

                The Weasley matriarch shot a glare at Harry, although it didn’t last long. She quickly adopted the same loving look that she had bestowed upon Draco, although her voice had grown remarkably tense.

                “Right, of course, Harry. I’m sure you were only doing what you thought was right… Be that as it may… This is far more serious than any of you can possibly comprehend. I certainly hope you stop and think about your actions in the future before running headfirst into things. Draco Malfoy’s life now hangs in the balance of his actions, and if he falls, it will be on you three. Ronald, go help Remus.”

                “But, Mum-“

                “I will not repeat myself, Ronald.”

                Weasley dragged himself up from his chair and shuffled out the door. Were Draco in a better state of mind, he’d surely enjoy a laugh at the sorry sop. How quickly he had been torn down by a few words from his mother…

                It was all too familiar to Draco.

                Granger made a squeaking sound, catching the rest of the room’s attention.

                “Uhm, Mrs. Weasley… There is one more thing we must do.”

                “I think you three have done enough, thank you, Hermione.”

                “It’s not that simple,” Granger quickly said as Molly’s expression hardened.

                “Hasn’t he been through enough? I didn’t want you lot to chain him up in my attic, but here we are, and then you three go and force him into the Unbreakable Vow? Enough is enough, Herm-”

                “It’s the Dark Mark, Mrs. Weasley.”

                Molly flinched and stood up from the ground, bringing her hands to her stomach and shaking her head.

                “You’ve signed Draco’s death warrant. How can you three be so careless?”

                “I don’t think so… You see, I was speaking with Tonks on the matter a few days ago,” Granger went on as Molly’s head whipped around to the door, finding Nymphadora Tonks and fixing her with an angry glare.

                Nymphadora held up her hands, shaking her head.

                “Don’t look at me, Molly. I didn’t know what she’d get up to.”

                Hermione coughed politely, gathering the room’s attention back onto her, “The _Ablue Tenebris_ charm may solve that particular problem and suspend the effects of the Dark Mark, releasing Draco indefinitely.”

                Every single person in the room, save for Harry, began shouting at once.

                “What d’you mean suspend-”

                “No one has ever been-“

                “You’re toying with dark magic-“

                “The boy’s life is at stake-“

                “He will find us because of that mark-“

                “The Order is in danger because of-“

                “Have you gone completely mental-“

                The voices in the room tumbled over each other, rising into a discordant cacophony that grated at Draco’s ears. A vice grip locked around his mind, crippling all thought, pushing him back against the wall. Flashes of light swam in his vision as a crippling migraine took hold. It was all too much. The members of the Order were arguing over him, but no one was looking at him, no one asking what he wanted, what he thought. It was like being back with the Death Eaters. Everything had been decided for Draco no matter what his wishes were. Bile began rising in his throat once more and a spray of vomit issued forth, spilling across the uneven wooden planks that made up the floor of the room. Still, the Order kept arguing and shouting over him.

                Potter sat quietly in his chair just a few feet from Draco, a fierce frown worn across the lips. He opened his mouth, staring at Draco, mouth moving; but the voices and shouts drowned out Potter’s words. He held up his right hand, sleeve still pulled back and Draco saw four rings of slightly tanned flesh encircling Potter’s forearm. He pointed to Draco’s own arm.

                Looking down, Draco saw the same exact bands of discolored flesh branded up his own arm.

                _Another mark…_

                _Another bloody mark._

_I’ve been branded by both camps…_

_My life is no longer my own._

Blackness clouded Draco’s vision as he collapsed onto the mattress, head falling with a thud.

                All of the arguing and shouting in the room stopped at the sound, every pair of eyes turning to Draco.

                He had fainted.

                Again.


	6. Ablue Tenebris

                Draco awoke with a groggy skull, finding himself in the same room that he had spent the previous three days in... At least he assumed another day had passed, it was either that or everyone had decided to pull a wardrobe change while he was out. A quick glance down showed that he also was wearing different clothes; a crisp, bright green jumper with a ghastly ‘H’ stitched across the front, dark woolen slacks and knitted socks had replaced the battered robes he had arrived in. It only meant that someone in this room had unclothed him at one point. The thought made him furious. Not only had the Order managed to bully him into a death sentence, but one of them had damn near violated him in his sleep. Even his skin felt less grimy; Draco prayed they had used a cleaning charm instead of forcing a sponge bath upon his unconscious form.

                This really was all too much. The migraine returned almost immediately.

                Draco tried to focus on where he was, drowning out any embarrassment he might have felt over the revelations.

                The Weasley’s attic. That’s where he was. How undignified. The room seemed even more cramped with all of the new faces crowding in, surrounding him.

                Nymphadora Tonks and Sirius Black, his cousins, stood by the doorway, eyeing Draco with an air of thinly veiled contempt. Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in another corner whispering frantically with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Potter, Granger, the younger male Weasley, and his sister sat at the table near Draco’s bed. Bill Weasley and, of all people, Fleur Delacour stood close to Draco, silent and shooting him worried glances.

                Draco tried to sink lower onto his mattress, but the thing was no thicker than his finger. He closed his eyes again, palms springing up to rub at his temple, trying to ignore the others.

                _This is just another one of those bad dreams._

_In a minute I’ll be waking up inside the Manor, away from all of this and…_

Ron Weasley laughed at something his sister whispered.

_Nope… Still not happening…_

                He brought his palms up to shield his already shut eyes, imagining that he was anywhere but here. If this wasn’t a nightmare, he could at least go on pretending it was.

                If only for a moment.

                Part of him wished to be back in the fold with the other Death Eaters; at least Mother and Father were there, they would shelter him, they would tend and care for him, ensuring all the hurts and stresses of the last few days melted away. They would…

                They wouldn’t.

                They couldn’t.

                Voldemort’s shadow stretched across every aspect of Draco’s life. There was no running, no hiding to be done. The end was here. He had drawn his lot and cast it in with the Order. What a disgusting joke his life had been turning out to be.

                A cough from the corner forced Draco’s eyes open. He looked to its source, to find Nymphadora staring at him. All the other eyes in the room watched Draco as well. He felt a knot forming in his stomach. Remus Lupin was the one who spoke out first.

                “Let me apologize again for this, Mr. Malfoy. This was certainly not how we had planned to handle things, but it seems our _younger_ members have decided otherwise… Although Hermione’s theory is sound, there is still no telling how the Dark Mark will react to the enchantment; Voldemort used terribly powerful and unknown forces in creating it. We understand if you’d rather forego this _second_ spell.”

                Draco gave a characteristic groan, “Well you lot have gotten all dolled up, musn’t disappoint now can I?”

                “I am quite serious, Draco. We will gladly leave now, I’m sure one of the Order’s safe-houses would be suitable to house you until we come up with another solution to your Dark Mark. If you’re not serious…” Remus began to rise from his seat as Nymphadora reached for the doorknob, and Draco shot up out of bed.

                “No, no, no! I mean it. Let’s get on with it. You all knew what you were doing before I even woke up, I don’t care _what_ any of you claim otherwise. It seems every decision in my life is made before I have a chance to make up my own bloody mind.”

                If Draco wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn that Potter’s expression tightened a fraction.

                “I wouldn’t have made this decision under normal circumstances, but here we are! Fate is funny like that, isn’t it? I _know_ what Voldemort is capable of. The Malfoy name means nothing anymore. Not to you all, and not to any Death Eater or any other member of the Wizarding World. What do I have to lose? I figure this is my best chance to survive. The Order can sleep well at night knowing that they convinced a Pureblood family to join their ranks. I can guarantee my parents will feel the same way once they’re out of Voldemort’s spindly clutches. They may not like it, but they won’t have much choice in the matter. How will they? They’ll be safe and alive. That’s all they’ve ever wanted no matter what they say in public. Did you honestly forget you’re dealing with a family of Slytherins? I’m in. Let’s get it over with.”

                Draco had found that he was shouting at the top of his lungs. Throwing a temper tantrum when he should have been acting like a man. Just another reason for Father to be disappointed in him, that line already being crossed a few times since the capture. Even if his parents were rescued, they’d probably never speak to him again once this was all over with. If any of them lived.

                The rest of the room simply stared at him, even Weasley held his breath. Draco was answered with stunned silence. That kept happening. Every time he professed these urges, he was met with disbelief. Hell, part of him _still_ didn’t completely believe he was saying these things. Even under the influence of a _truth serum_ , he doubted his own self. Which, by the way, he could _still_ feel the effects of!

                And then there was Potter.

                He was the only one looking at Draco with anything other than shock or doubt, he looked considering, almost agreeable. Butterflies flitted at the pit of Draco’s stomach and confusion swirled around his head. He had once been so sure of who he was, what he wanted… But not now. It was as if there were two grand dragons inside of him and warring for control of his heart and soul. When he looked at Potter, that feeling only seemed to swell to unbearable levels.

                Draco wished that he had died while attacking the seven Potters.

                That would have been much simpler…

                But, _no_.

                This was all too typical. Such was his lot in life. Fuck this world and fuck everyone in it.

                “My only other condition to accepting this offer is that **Potter** performs the spells.”

                “ _What!?_ ”

                It seemed that at least half of the room cried out in unison. Draco felt the corner of his mouth rise in amusement and he couldn’t stop it. This was _really_ becoming far too easy to do with this lot. What would they do if he said something _truly_ outrageous?

                “Sure, why not… I mean, that’s what _I_ was planning anyway,” Harry replied casually.

                The entire room was now gaping at Potter, who kept up an easy going tone.

                Draco spoke up again, drawing the attention away from the _Golden One_ , he hadn’t meant to flatter or be agreeable.

                “He’s the one that got me into this mess.”

                The few flashes of memories before winding up in this attic flashed through his mind. Falling from his broom. Landing in Potter’s lap with a thud. Blackness. There was no doubt it was Potter that had brought him here, took him captive. It was Potter that had chosen the Vows and snuck a fourth in there. All of this was on him. If Draco Malfoy fell, he wanted Harry Potter to bear the weight of it.

                “…Stuck here with you lot, forced to make impossible decisions. He’s already sealed my fate, let the man finish the job.”

                _More_ silence.

                Hermione was the first to speak up, “I’m not sure I agree with your reasoning, Draco... But if both of you want to proceed this way… My only issue is whether or not Harry can do it. Oh, don’t look at me that way, Harry, you know what I meant. We’ve never even _seen_ it done before. From my understanding, this magic isn’t exactly stable either. We’re talking about _tampering with the **Dark Mark**_! I had hoped for a more experienced Wizard or Witch to perform the enchantment. Like Kingsley, or Remus, or Tonks, or-”

                “Like _you_ , Granger? Give it up. You lot keep going on about tampering with lives, well let me make this choice. Potter sure is amenable to it,” Draco replied in a cool, silky tone, pushing himself off of the wall and standing on shaky legs.

                Nymphadora broke away from her post on the wall and walked up to the table. She rested her hands on the tabletop and sighed, speaking to the room as a whole.

                “Well, I’m sure Voldemort meant for the Dark Mark to outlast the body if we’re being completely honest; but from what I’ve observed, he has not made it _part_ of the body. It is a separate magical brand tied on to the person... so to speak. What we are talking about is encapsulating the brand within its own little pocket of existence, almost like wrapping it up in a protective shell. If the theory is correct, that ‘shell’ should severe it’s connection to Draco; however, it will not actually remove the Dark Mark... There is still a chance the enchantment can be broken… And knowing Voldemort…”

                “Ok, great,” Draco moaned as he walked over to the table, legs still a little unsteady, “I’m tired of talking, can we get this done with?”

                Granger frowned at him and then at Harry, she spoke in a lecturing tone.

                “Fine. Harry take out your wand. I memorized the spell last night. If you’re going to be the one to perform this, then I shall need to ensure your competence.

                The pair started practicing the enchantment and Draco groaned again as he slammed down into a wooden chair at the same table. Feet shuffled about and floorboards creaked as the rest of the Order settled in to wait until Granger was satisfied.

 

~

 

                In Draco’s dreams, he would have been _thrilled_ to be staring intensely into Harry Potter’s eyes. However, this was real life and Harry still wore a shirt. The dreams with him were never this grim and serious, but then again, that’s why they were dreams.

                “Ready, Malfoy?”

                “Ready, Potter.”

                The room held it’s breath as Draco went through the motions of summoning his Patronus. It was a simple fox. The sly, spectral beast paced around the room, gazing suspiciously at Harry, sniffing at him and circling. Potter didn’t flinch. Draco wasn’t surprised. The fox wasn’t anything impressive, indeed, even Draco was underwhelmed when he had first produced it.

                Without hesitation, Harry brandished his wand and made a few grand sweeping motions, culminating into an excellent overhead flourish. Just as Harry went through the final motion, he yelled out to the Patronus.

_“Ablue Tenebris!”_

As the final syllable left Harry’s mouth, the Patronus swelled in size, stretching out beyond the room, it disappeared with a defiant cry. Draco fell to the ground with a violent spasm, his left arm locking up.

                “Ahhh!” Draco screamed as loudly as his lungs dared.

                The Dark Mark on Draco Malfoy’s arm began to quiver and surge. With a snap, the fox began to shrink in size and descended into the mark on Draco’s arm. The edges of the mark began to falter, color shifting from black to grey, then to white, and then back to black; with every shift came a scream that escaped young Malfoy.

                Dark, bulbous smoke began to pour forth from the mark on Draco’s skin. Everyone in the room tensed, trying not to panic as the thick clouds quickly permeated the entire atmosphere.

                “Ahhh!” Draco screamed once more as another violent spasm shook his body.

                Memories began tumbling back through his mind’s eye. Terrible things.

                He saw himself, outside of his body, ridiculing and hating Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Jealousy, anguish, and suspicion bubbling to the surface of his mind.

                Draco Malfoy saw every unkind word and every unkind deed that he had ever committed. Not just to them, but to his classmates, to strangers, to so many people.

                It stung, and it burned, and it hurt.

It was awful.

                Draco found himself suddenly confronted with the faces and the cries of everyone he had ever done wrong. They moaned and clawed out for him. Draco screamed out for his parents, but they were nowhere to be found.

                He found himself alone and afraid.

                And it was terrible.

                The occupants of the room did not see that the smoke pouring forth from the Dark Mark was, in fact, making a larger Dark Mark on its own. The smoke swelled into an enormous form, enveloping everyone that surrounded Draco Malfoy. The shape grew and grew until a single pin-prick of light shone at the center of the mark on Draco’s arm. It shot out like the fox Patronus had, expanding out past the room.

                With a loud and vicious crack, the black smoke and the white bubble snapped back down into Draco’s arm, shooting deep into the Dark Mark.

                The colors on the mark shifted to a muted black and the illustration of a fox suddenly appeared upon his arm. The figure sitting atop the skull of the Dark Mark. It’s expression looked cunning and rueful. No trace of smoke or light remained.

                Pain and spasms forced their way through Draco’s body, violently rending his form from side to side.

                It seemed nothing in the world existed except this glorious pain.

                Shrill screams invaded his ears and numbed every sense his body possessed.

                On and on it crawled through his nerves, emptying what was left in his stomach, and forcing him on all fours.

                And then like that.

                It was gone.

                Draco collapsed to the ground, panting, drooling, and crying.

                Mrs. Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Hermione rushed over to him.

                The three cried out as the rest of the room watched.

                Draco didn’t faint, he just kept staring up. Staring at Potter.

                For the first time in his life, Draco saw the look of sympathy in Harry’s face.


	7. Fears

                Draco raked a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. Sunlight shone lazily in through the circular window above the rickety table in the attic, spilling across a piece of parchment. His hand held a quill hovering over the tanned page. He didn’t know what to write.

                 The Order had planned on kidnapping his parents in an effort to spirit them away to a safe house. It was their way of repaying him for the help he had offered- the help he had all but been forced into giving. Oh, the decision to help was his, but considering the circumstances… It was either that or remain a hostage in this dank and dusty attic. He had wanted to be released from Voldemort’s influence, he wanted his family to be freed from the path that they had set out upon, and this had been the price. He had been freed from it, but would his parents follow suit? That was the real question. That thought had been digging at his brain ever since Potter had performed the Ablue Tenebris charm.

                 Draco set the quill down and sighed to himself. His gaze shifted up to a circular mirror that was propped up on the table, just a foot away from the parchment. An image of Malfoy Manor was displayed across the smooth surface of the mirror. Ghostly-white peacocks meandered through the trees of the property and a gentle breeze caused the limbs of the many hawthorn trees to dance. There was no other sign of life amongst the grounds.

                The day before, Granger had brought him the mirror. She had explained that the Order had installed charms around all of the known Death Eater hideouts, each linked to a mirror identical to the one she held. A spell invented by the git Dumbledore in an effort to spy on the opposition. It clearly hadn’t done the Order much good otherwise they wouldn’t have needed Draco’s help. He had fed them as much information as he could, which wasn’t as much as they’d have liked. But what did they expect? He hadn’t been a senior member of the Death Eaters. The only reason he had been admitted was because of his access to Dumbledore, or so Voldemort had said to Father; that and the fact that he had begged to be let in.

                At the time, he didn’t even stop to think that Snape was just as close- closer- to Dumbledore. Draco had only been thinking of pleasing Father and helping his family reclaim the greatness they once held within the circle. It seemed so easy at the time, but as his 6th year at Hogwarts went on, Draco had quickly realized just how deeply he had dug his own grave. Were it not for Snape, Voldemort would have killed him by the end of the year if Dumbledore still breathed. Snape had saved Draco’s life. Father had ended up disappointed.

                Draco’s lip curled into a rictus at the thought.

                Father’s approval had meant everything to him, Draco had fought for it ever since he took his first steps. As an only child, it was an easy thing to earn… Until Draco had enrolled at Hogwarts. Ever since that first year, it seemed things had constantly been going downhill between the two of them. Potter’s emergence back into the Wizarding World coincided with Draco’s first year, and as a result, Father had insisted that he pursue a friendship with the ‘Chosen One.’ Draco tried, he really did, but in retrospect, he had fumbled the quaffle before he even knew it. Memories of Madame Malkin’s replayed vividly in his mind’s eye. So young, so stupid, so cocky… So misguided. He had simply been trying to show off, that had always worked for him as a child; he wouldn’t have been as popular in Slytherin had he acted any differently- but if he had, he might have become friends with Potter… He might have secured Father’s approval… He might have set his family on a path to greatness… He might have…  
If he could do it all again, he would have done it differently, but he did not have a Time Turner. Even if he had done it differently, there was no guarantee that things would have ended up differently. Some thought that Potter could have been Voldemort’s successor at the time, and if Draco had been successful, Potter very well could have gone down that path. What would that have been like?

                Draco shuddered. He banished all thoughts of the past and his woes from his mind, pushing away all of the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes.’ He had to deal with the present and presently he was stuck inside of the Weasley’s wobbly ‘Burrow’, trying to pen a letter to his parents.

                The kidnapping of Draco’s parents would never have worked. The plan had been to stalk Mother and Father whenever they left the Manor, an Order member would have cast a Stupefy charm before grabbing them and then apparating to an Order safe house. In theory, it would have worked, but the Order didn’t know Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Unless they were restrained, as he had been, they would have retaliated immediately and called Voldemort to their aid through the Dark Mark. Such an effort would have ensured the destruction of whatever safe house the pair were taken to and the Order would have suffered serious losses as a result. No. It would have never worked. Through much pleading and reasoning, Draco insisted that he contact them himself through a letter.

                Draco had used his second year at Hogwarts, and Father’s actions, as inspiration. Once he penned the letter, a member of the Order would just have to follow Father or Mother once they left the Manor and it into their possession, much as Father had snuck Voldemort’s diary into Ginny Weasley’s possession. It seemed all too simple… Until Draco had the quill and parchment before him. He didn’t know what to say- didn’t know how he could possibly convince his parents that turning cloak was the best course of action. Oh, they would do it without question if they knew their safety was assured… But how could he do so with a letter? As far as they were concerned, the letter he wrote could have been a forgery on the Order’s part. Draco did not want to take any chances on endangering the Order due to the Vow; his very life was at stake if the plot failed.

                 Draco sighed to himself, resting his elbows upon the table and pushing his face into his palms. Tears welled up in his eyes. What was he to do? He was safe, but his parents were not. Draco saw no sure fire way of saving them anymore. It seemed so simple when he had agreed to the vow, agreed to work with the Order… But now that he was actually put to the task…

                A door slammed somewhere in the Burrow. Draco’s head shot up and he glanced out the window. Many stories down, Draco saw Rufus Scrimgeour storm down the front steps of the Weasley home, huffing and puffing to himself. The Minister walked a few steps before apparating off of the property. Draco’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. He hadn’t heard the man come in, not that that was hard. Draco was still kept in the attic lest Fleur Delacour’s parents find out that the Order was harboring a Death Eater. What did the Minister want? No doubt he was courting Potter, trying to save face in front of the Wizarding World, hoping to gain the ‘Chosen One’s’ approval to further strengthen his position in the eyes of the rest of the community. Politicians were so easy to read… Lest they were under the influence of the Imperius curse… Had Scrimgeour become a puppet to Voldemort? Was the Dark Lord searching for Draco? Surely not. Granger had theorized that the Tenebris charm would have caused Voldemort to assume Draco dead since the connection had been severed. So the only reasonable explanation was-

                A knock sounded at the attic door. Draco’s head spun around to the source. He sighed again before calling out.

                “Come.”

                Granger stuck her head in, the attic door only half opening.

                “May I come in?”

                “S’not my house, I don’t see why not.” 

                Granger smiled awkwardly before ducking in, a dented tea tray balanced on one hand. She closed the door behind her swiftly before moving effortlessly to the rickety table. She set the tray down behind the mirror, offering up an uncomfortable smile before speaking.

                “Molly thought you might be thirsty.”

                 “More Veretiserum?” Draco spat, looking down to the tray. A white porcelain teapot sat steaming next to two chipped cups of the same make. He looked back up to Granger, trying, and failing, to hide his contempt, “I already told you lot everything I know on the Death Eaters. No need to try to force it out of me again.”

                 Granger barely suppressed a sigh, her lip quirking at the corner.

                “We’re out of that if you must know.”

                “A comforting thought.”

                 “The Order appreciates everything you’ve contributed thus far, Draco.”

                Draco guffawed.

                “Then why keep me in the attic? Why not let the Delacours know that I am sulking up here? Afraid they’ll go to the Dark Lord?”

                 Granger’s brow furrowed. She took a seat unbidden, pouring out tea to the two cups. She took one, not hesitating before taking a sip. A soft smile crept upon her lips.

                 “What, Granger? Enjoy the taste of your own potion?”

                 “Oh, get off it, Draco. You know as well as I that if I wanted you to drink a truth serum, you would have already.”

                 Draco spluttered, pushing up from the table.

                 “Do you want to say that again, Granger?”

                 “Oh, do sit down. Quit flexing your wand arm. I was only joking.”

                 “You’re not the one locked in a blood-traitor’s attic.”

                 Granger glared daggers at Draco, setting her cup down on the table. She laced her finger together in her lap, regarding him coolly.

                 “Draco, if Molly’s hospitality is less than what you expected, you are more than welcome to leave. However-“

                 “I know, I know, Granger. This is fine. Am I not the one who agreed to this? Shut it. You can hardly blame me for being irate,” Draco spat at her, “I live in a Mansion, not some hobble. As of late, I wake up every morning sneezing on that pitiful, stained mattress. Oh, yes, thank you for the moth-eaten blanket and brick-like pillow you have supplied me with. I am not worthy of such luxuries.”

                 Granger slammed her teacup down and shot up from the cheap chair on which she sat.

                 “Fine. I was only trying to be nice, Draco, but since you-“

                 “What!? Should I be kissing your feet for the gifts your Order has given me!? Oh please, stop with the looks, Granger. I know how lucky I am. No other Death Eater has been released from the Dark Mark, I know how fortunate I am, but have you- have you for one single moment thought about how this has affected me? All of this? I did not plan on falling into Potter’s lap. Sure, I am blessed in one regard, but I am also the first Death Eater to be taken captive by the Order. What a pitiful wizard I have turned out to be.”

                 “Is that supposed to evoke sympathy within me, Draco? We are fighting a war here and Voldemort-“

                 “Yes, yes, I know. He will destroy everything. I know, Granger. Do you not think that I understand the magnitude of the situation? You do realize that Voldemort comes to Malfoy Manor every other day? And when he’s not there, Dementors are stationed within our home? Watching us, waiting for my family to slip up so that the Dark Lord may end us once and for all? Ever since I left Hogwarts- even before- I have lived in fear that one day I might not wake up because my family displeased the Dark Lord.”

                 “My question still stands, Draco, is that supposed to evoke sympathy within me? You willingly followed in your Father’s footsteps, willingly volunteered to assassinate Dumbledore! You have no idea how lucky you are that the Order has chosen to be merciful.”

                 “Oh? Granger, you have muggle parents,” Malfoy spat, “They are- what- Tooth sorcerers?”

                 “Dentists,” Granger said calmly.

                 “You don’t know what it’s like to grow up as the son of a Death Eater,” Draco said through gritted teeth. Visions from the Ablue Tenebris charm started swirling in his mind. He saw his Father speaking to him of the superiority of their blood, saw himself casting down Granger and Potter and Weasley, naming them blood-traitors and worse. He saw himself cursing Katie Bell, trying to get to Dumbledore. He saw his Father crying. He saw- Draco shivered, “You don’t know what it’s like to be me.”

                 “Oh? And you think it must be so easy for the Order? For Harry? For the rest of the World? Draco, I am starting to doubt that you truly understand the gravity of the situation. I don’t like you, but I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt when Harry brought you here, but if you insist on clinging to these self-pitying ideals…”

                 Granger turned from the table and made her way towards the door. Her hand shot towards the door knob and Draco screamed at her.

                 “I’m sorry!”

                 “What?”

                 “I’m sorry,” Draco almost didn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth, but the visions from the Ablue Tenebris charm kept bombarding his mind. He couldn't help but to feel regretful over his actions, “For the past- You’re right. I didn’t- I don’t… Granger. I’m trying to understand, but this is… Go ahead and leave, but know that I am trying. I’m not doing this for you or for Potter or for the rest of the world. I’m doing this for my parents.”

                 Granger turned her head, regarding Draco with a contemptuous gaze.

                 “I know you are Draco, that’s what we were counting on.”

                 “So you’re not doing this to help me?”

                 “Of course not!” Granger almost laughed, “We are doing this to preserve the world, Draco! You just said- Maybe if you actually were repentant… Maybe we would do it for you… But you’re not. You’re selfish. You always have been… But if that’s what it takes…”

                 Granger turned back to the door, she opened it and then faltered for a moment. A sigh escaped her lips and she turned back, looking to Draco.

                 “It’s Harry’s 17th Birthday. The Order is having a dinner to celebrate. Fleur’s parents have gone to see Diagon Alley. You’re welcome to come down if you’d like… Otherwise, enjoy the tea. There’s no Veretiserum in it nor any poison, Draco.”

                 And with that, she left, closing the door quietly behind her.


	8. A Birthday And A Smile

                “Draco, dear! So happy you decided to join us! Come and sit a spell!” Mrs. Weasely exclaimed.

                Hermione Granger did nothing to hide her smug satisfaction when Draco Malfoy came out of the Burrow and into the backyard. The garden was nothing in comparison to the Malfoy’s estates, but it had a certain naïve charm. The big olf, Hagrid, grew red in the face over Draco’s emergence, but the rest of the Order was split down the center. Half of them looked shocked and the others tried their best to look welcoming, even offering up smiles. Sirius murmured something in Tonk’s ear which caused her to snort. Draco’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

                Then there was Potter.

                As soon as Draco walked out of the backdoor, Potter’s eyes were glued to him- at least for a moment. Draco faltered when he noticed Potter’s attention, cheeks flushing. Potter cocked an eyebrow at Draco, lip quirking, half-rising from his seat at the long table that was set out beneath a white canopy… Until Hagrid called for his attention.

                “Give it here, ‘Arry, let us see what Dumbledore left you lot,” Hagrid proclaimed, holding out a hand towards Potter, Weasely, and Granger.

                “S’nothing, Hagrid,” Potter murmured, tearing his eyes away from Draco, passing a book from Granger to the big olf, “Just a book of Fairy Tales.”

                “Why, my Da’ used to read me these stories when I was just a lad. The Tales of Beetle the Bard! Nothing like a classic, ‘ermione!” Hagrid exclaimed as he flipped through the pages of the tome.

                Draco’s lip curved up into a sneer at Hagrid’s words. Mother had read the same tales to him when he was very little, but he wouldn’t have called that book a ‘classic.’ Apparently, Dumbledore was tightfisted if he just left the Golden Trio a battered copy of the Bard. Ron fished around in his pocket as Hagrid looked over the book.

                “He left this for me, Hagrid,” The ginger proclaimed as he handed a small item over to the giant.

                “W’as this then? Looks  like some sort of Muggle toy.”

                “Click the button,” Ron said with a laugh.

                The big olf obeyed and every light around the garden was sucked into the handheld device, plunging the party into darkness. Several people at the table exclaimed in surprise as Hagrid pushed the button once again, restoring light to the property.

                “It’s called a ‘deluminator.’ Dunno why Dumbledore left it for me… Might be useful if we ever need to escape a sticky situation, though, I suspect,” Ron said thoughtfully. His Father shot up from his chair, running over to Hagrid, grabbing at the deluminator and exclaiming over it’s ‘brilliance.’ The man returned to his chair, examining it thoroughly, clicking the button a few times, oblivious to the rest of the party.

                “Yes, well, Ronald, Dumbledore always had his reasons. And I should think they you three will be doing everything in your power _not_ to be getting into any trouble. We are at war. Now is not the time to be tempting the fates,” Mrs. Weasley said as she waved a serving spoon at her son.

                “We would never _dream_ of doing such a thing, Mrs. Weasely,” Potter announced with a grin. Sirius Black was hiding a smile behind his hand as he looked at his Godson, nodding along as if he agreed.

                Draco rolled his eyes, taking the only open seat at the table… Which happened to be across from Potter.

                Hagrid turned his attention back on Potter.

                “An what did he give ye?”

                Potter took out a walnut-sized orb that was painted gold. Draco recognized it at once, his eyebrows cocking at the sight of a snitch. Why would Dumbledore leave them all such useless objects? The delumninator seemed the most useful by far, but such an item was clearly wasted on Weasely.

                “The snitch I caught at my first game. Guess he thought I’d want a memento.”

                Everyone at the table was looking at the snitch, nodding appreciatively, but Draco caught Potter glancing at Granger, his lip turning up slightly. She was staring back at him, her brow furrowing a touch. Draco was no fool, there was something more to that snitch that the pair hadn’t elaborated on. Potter and Granger couldn’t have been more obvious. Were it Draco, he wouldn’t have betrayed a thing with a such a trivial look… But what could it have been? Was the snitch something else entirely, merely transfigured to look like the snitch? Draco doubted they would tell him, but he filed the thought into the back of his mind.

                Potter went on nonchalantly.

                “Oh, and he left me the Sword of Gryffindor.”

                The entire table erupted into questions and gasps of surprise.

                “Well, where is it then, ‘Arry?”

                “Did the Minister actually give it to you?”

                “Oh, let me see it! I’ve never laid eyes on such a treasure.”

                “You gonna pawn it?”

                Potter held up his hands, gesturing for calm. His expression deflated.

                “Scrimgeour wouldn’t hand it over… He said it was the property of Hogwarts.”

                Hagrid looked troubled, “Well, I s’pose he’s not wrong at that… But if Dumbledore wanted yeh to have it, I don’t see why the Minister shouldn’t let yeh. Good ole’ Dumbledore was a wise man. The wisest. Best not to question ‘em.”

                “Mrs. Weasley, that roast smells simply marvelous!” Granger exclaimed, clearly trying to change the subject.

                “Why, thank you, dear. I suppose we can all dig into it since we’re all here now,” she replied with a wide smile on her face. With a few flicks of her wand, the roast pork loin began to cut slices from itself, steamed Brussels sprouts covered in butter floated onto the plates, bread was buttered, mashed potatoes dipped themselves into gravy and soon took their place next to the sprouts on everyone’s plates. All of that and more was deposited before Draco. He begrudgingly thought that it all really did smell divine. Almost everyone at the table started to eat before their plates were filled by Mrs. Weasley’s wand work.

                Draco stared down at the mountain of food, his mouth watering, then up to Mrs. Weasley.

                “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Weasley,” he announced across the table. Ron choked on his food at the words, Lupin quickly slapping him on the back to dislodge whatever it was he had shoveled down. Draco was not surprised that at least someone at the table had been shocked over his gratitude, but Mother had raised him to be a gentleman. Proper manners had only been a small part of that tutelage… Although he had not always practiced such things at school.

                The Weasley matron looked up from her work and smiled warmly at Draco.

                “Of course, dear. Can’t have you wasting away. Please. Eat!” She flicked the wand again as a wine bottle floated along the table, pouring out amber liquid into mismatched flutes set next to the plates. As the last glass was filled, she finally took a seat and coughed quietly. Mr. Weasely jumped in his seat, passing the deluminator back over to Ron and grabbing his glass. Standing from his chair, Mr. Weasley held up the cup and looked around the table. Everyone stopped eating and looked up to him.

                “I’d like to thank you all for coming today,” Mr. Weasley began, “In times of such darkness, it is hard to remember that there is still happiness in our lives. Friends. Family. Love. It is for these things that we fight. In the days to come, everyone must remember to stay vigilant lest we lose it all…”

                The faces at the table took on a somber cast, Mr. Weasley bowed his head for a moment before going on, “Today, however, we are here to celebrate the life of a man I think of as a son.” He turned to Potter, raising his glass higher, “Harry, it has been my pleasure to watch you grow these last few years. Molly and I bless the day that Ronald and the boys stole you away from those horrible Muggles. You will always have a home here. Happy Birthday, my boy.”

                Potter’s face broke out into the goofiest, most beautiful smile Draco had ever seen another person.

                _Stop it…_ he thought to himself, blushing slightly.

                Everyone at the table broke out into whoops and cheers for Potter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came over to take him into a large hug, Hagrid started blubbering into a handkerchief. Lupin and Black stood as well, hugging Potter as the Weasley’s released him. It seemed that the entire table was taking turns hugging Potter or shaking his hand.

                Draco wanted nothing more than to do the same, but he didn’t think Potter would return the gesture. He couldn’t bare the rejection- the embarrassment. He could just see Ron, Sirius and the rest of the Order snickering at him over such an event. No. He wouldn’t risk it…

                Potter finally sat back down, all smiles and messy hair. Draco looked at him, swallowing hard. Potter returned his stare, opening his mouth, but Draco spoke first.

                “Happy Birthday, Potter.”

                Draco’s stomach was a flutter.

                Potter closed his mouth and smiled.

                “Thanks, Malfoy.”

                “Oi!” Ron exclaimed from Potter’s right, “Who are you and what have you done with Malfoy?”

                Lupin and a few others laughed at that. Granger glared at Ron. He screamed and jumped in his seat, turning to her, “Wha’d you do that for!?”

                “Just a spasm… Did I get your leg? Sorry, Ronald…” Granger replied innocently. The rest of the table erupted into laughter.

                Potter was laughing too, looking at his friends. Then he turned his gaze back to Draco, smiling that same smile from earlier.

                Draco’s stomach did a flip and his cheeks reddened a deeper shade of scarlet. He broke eye contact, turning his attention back to his plate, attacking it with gusto.

                The rest of dinner went on without incident. Everyone shared stories about Potter or their own adventures over the years. Draco was quiet, politely listening on; nodding or laughing when appropriate. All in all, he was only faking it half the time. Despite his misgivings over this group, they really didn’t seem _that_ bad. Especially after a year or two with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters haunting the Manor. Given time, Draco might even have grown to like these people… Maybe.

                After helping clean up the remnants of dinner, something Draco had never done before, Lupin and Sirius had pulled Draco off away from the rest of the group. Sirius looked like he had eaten a particularly sour fruit and his husband was smiling at Draco.

                “Draco, Sirius has something he’d like to say to you.”

                Sirius crossed his arms and started looking around the yard. Lupin elbowed him in the side and he gave a start.

                “Sorry, cousin.”

                Draco’s eyebrows cocked and he looked at the man questioningly.

                “For what?”

                “Y’know… Pouring ten buckets of water on you when you were sleeping…”

                “And?” Lupin implored.

                “And for treating you like a prat.”

                Draco was silent. He did not appreciate forced apologies. The gesture was… nice… but, clearly, it was only happening because of Lupin.

                “He means it, Draco,” Lupin jumped in when it was clear that Sirius had nothing else to say, “Despite the circumstances, your help has been invaluable. We had no idea the Death Eaters had grown so strong in numbers, nor could we have guessed half of the safe houses you informed us on. Without you, we couldn’t have started forming half the plans we now have in motion.”

                “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

                Sirius’s lips turned up into a grimace and Lupin adopted a look of worry, “Do you regret what you have done?”

                “Yes… No… I’m not quite sure… I just want my parents to be safe… S’not gonna happen with Voldemort around and to be honest, I don’t know how safe we’ll be if he isn’t around. You lot have never liked us. Why help us now?”

                “We didn’t exactly have a choice once Harry brought you home,” Sirius barked. Lupin elbowed him again.

                “Erm. Well. My husband is only half right. You could have come to us on your own and we would have taken you in. Considering your arrival, the imprisonment was only a precaution, Draco. This is war, surely you understand that.”

                Draco grumbled a half-agreeance.

                “No one should be condemned, Draco, no one is beyond redemption. You have that chance with us. Allying yourself with the Death Eaters would not have ended well. We are doing everything in our power to reach your parents. I am sure, in time, they will come around as well. Have you finished your letter to them?”

                “No… I, ugh, I’m just not sure what to say. Father won’t be pleased. Mother… Well, I’m sure Mother would come around… Father, though… They would need some assurance that they would not be thrown in prison when this is all said and done.”

                “We will work something out, Draco. I promise you that. Finish the letter and we will get it to them. Sirius and I still stand by our word: You and your family will find refuge at our home. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. As I hear it, your Mother used to love the old place when she was a girl… And Sirius,” Lupin said, turning his head to look at his husband, “I’m sure the portrait of your Mother would just adore having someone to talk to.”

                Sirius’s eyebrows shot up.

                “Y’know I hadn’t thought of that,” he mumbled, a glimmer lighting up his eyes. Sirius suddenly looked to Draco with a wide grin, “Finish that letter cousin! I think a reunion is just what our family needs!” He barked a laugh and smacked Draco on the shoulder before pulling Lupin away to rejoin the others.

                “You can come to our place after the Wedding tomorrow, if you’d like, Draco,” Lupin called over his shoulder before they were elbow to elbow with the other members of the Order.

                Draco sighed to himself. His emotions had been all over the place lately. The prospect of leaving the Burrow was tempting, but he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to be locked up, alone, with his deranged cousin… At least not without Mother and Father there. Even that might not have turned out to be the most savory of situations. Mother hated Sirius and so did Father, by association, and werewolves weren’t much better off by their measure. It would only take a few nights- maybe a few hours- before the four of them were at each other’s throats. What other options did they have? The Burrow? That would be even worse for Mother and Father, not to mention the fact that Draco had started suffering backpains over his lump of a mattress. Surely, the Weasleys didn’t have enough room to house them all in this shack…

                The beginnings of a migraine threatened to assault Draco’s temples. He turned heel and made his way back up to his corner of the attic. He planned on remaining in that dingey room until his parents were rescued. Especially when he thought of what the next day would bring…

                A wedding.

                Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour would become man and wife within the next twenty four hours. Draco didn’t think he could stomach such a thing, not with his parents out there under Voldemort’s thumb… Potter’s birthday dinner was one thing… But a wedding?

                Draco’s brain started to pulse against his skull as the migraine took hold.

                No.

                He had no intentions of leaving that flat mattress for the next week.


End file.
